The Man Without a Name watched Blackie converse with his peers. From their neighs, he understood that his companion had succeeded.
—Finally— he asked while holding the cigarette in his hand, already close to burning out.
The horse approached its owner and calmly nodded while glancing at the others behind him.
—Let's hurry up. At least two silver ingots isn't bad for today— he said, crushing his cigarette underfoot and mounting Blackie.
From the sky, the plain looked empty, dust from the desert clinging to its surface.
Then, like a small storm, a black dot raced at full speed, followed by ten brown ones.
Sand rose under the gallop of the horses as they followed the train tracks.
A man held a ring-gun in his hand while staring at a green-colored plume of smoke in the distance.
—I've never seen fire like that. It's not natural, don't you think, Judy?— asked a woman around thirty years old with brown hair, turning to the woman beside her.
Judy merely stared ahead, her thoughts lingering on the person who had saved them just minutes ago, fatigue showing as she failed to recognize him even now.
—Sorry, Rachel. I wasn't paying attention. Could you repeat that?— she asked while fixing her reddish hair as best she could.
—It's fine. I was asking whether that fire is natural— she said, pointing at the dark green smoke.
Judy thought for a few seconds before answering.
—It could be some kind of chemical mixture from the conductor's wagon, but if that were all, that man's expression wouldn't have been so grim— she said, looking at the man who had spoken briefly with the one who saved them.
Rachel looked at the man wearing a suit of much higher quality than any of theirs, caution in her eyes, and whispered into Judy's ear.
—Do you think the train was attacked because of him?—
—There's no doubt. But even if it were his fault, why would we blame someone just because others want to rob him?— Judy replied in the same low tone, staring at a black dot approaching rapidly in the distance.
Judy stepped back and analyzed the approaching figure. In just a few seconds, it drew closer, calm, a poncho fluttering in the wind.
—Well, it seems that man kept his promise— she whispered, opening her fan.
The Man Without a Name arrived, slowing down before reaching the group.
The cloud of dust he carried settled at the feet of the man with the ring-gun.
—Alright. Gather your belongings quickly and load them into the horses' bags— he said as he dismounted Blackie, who seemed indifferent to the exertion.
The man glanced at the poncho-clad figure with uncertainty. Meanwhile, a woman around thirty-eight years old approached with her fan extended.
—I would like to speak with you in private, sir— Judy said, meeting his eyes, green
colliding with brown.
—That's fine. I think we have a few minutes until everyone is ready— he replied, wiping his hands on his pants as he moved away.
Judy briefly said goodbye to Rachel before following The Man Without a Name.
Once far enough, Judy lowered her fan and spoke.
—I thank you for saving my life— she said, bowing slightly before straightening.
—There's no need— he replied, adjusting his hat slightly.
—There's only one man who visits my shop without wearing a gala suit. Mr. Nobody… so this is your work?— she asked, spacing her words deliberately.
The Man Without a Name lowered his bandana and answered.
—I'm more of a bounty hunter than a hero, Mrs. Judy— he said, stepping back while lighting a cigar.
—Then you won't ask for money for your generous help?— she asked calmly.
The Man Without a Name laughed lightly.
—Hahaha… Mrs. Judy, if that were the case, not even one of your pies could afford me without leaving me indebted to the bank.
Judy waved her fan, dispersing the smoke between them.
—That makes sense…— she paused. —But why hide your identity here? Wouldn't it give you more fame as a bounty hunter?—
He exhaled slowly, diverting the smoke away from her.
—Fame is never a good idea. Train companies go after anyone involved in their "incidents"… and this could be one of the worst.
Judy glanced once more at the green smoke and sighed softly.
—So… have you met my niece already?— she asked, noticing a faint light in his eyes.
—Of course, ma'am. Janet has a good touch, much like yours— he said as he raised his bandana again.
—She's a good girl. Her parents wanted her to see the world, so why not let her try… I had a patent issue a few weeks ago. When I return, I hope my business will still be standing— she said while fanning herself.
The Man Without a Name tossed his cigar to the ground and crushed it before speaking.
—Mrs. Judy, do you know how to ride?— he asked, the air around him growing heavier.
—My parents taught me well. I think I can last the ride to Burn Wood— she said, watching his eyes closely.
—I'll be blunt. I suggest you don't go to Burn Wood. There's a train station about three miles west that will take you to New Amster.
Wait for the train there. You must understand— there are too many eyes right now to explain properly— he said, pointing to the left corner of the wagon, where a small ring with a barrel was visible.
Judy sighed tiredly.
—Next time you're in New Amster, you'll have to explain everything. Otherwise… well, let's just say my pies won't be cheap— she said with a slight smile as she walked back toward Rachel.
As Judy's figure moved away and the area cleared, The Man Without a Name's gaze remained fixed on the ring.
He walked toward the figure and spoke firmly.
—I won't ask how much silver is at stake right now— he said calmly as he
approached the man with the ring-gun.
—The Masoner Company will suffer a massive loss for deceiving the Tribal Alliance… and they can't even hide it with the Wendigo mark here— he continued, advancing slowly as the pale-faced man emerged from hiding.
The ring-gun man raised his voice with all his courage.
—Wait! Don't rush! I'm the alliance's informant— Little Owl! I was investigating this situation beforehand— but the killing aura from The Man Without a Name silenced him.
—Little Owl? I know a Little Owl from the Cheyenne tribe. And you, my friend, don't look like someone from any tribe— he said calmly, revealing his revolver.
—I'm… Mike Threshold. I'm just a messenger for the Masoner Company— he said, taking slow, trembling breaths.
—A suicidal messenger, perhaps. That little thing was meant to blow your head off if transport went wrong, wasn't it?— he paused to let the words sink in. —So either I send you to hell early… or we talk calmly and I give you a way out.
Mike's eyes lit up like beacons.
—Is there… a way I can live? Won't Masoner hunt me for betraying them?—
—If you're the first to tell the alliance everything you've gathered about Masoner, then you'll be the only survivor of what's coming. How many cubic centimeters of silver are we talking about?—
—We found a small stone about fifty centimeters wide, but we decided not to move it until confirming whether it was part of a seal— he said, trembling with each word.
The Man Without a Name spoke with pure fury, spirit blazing in his eyes.
—Bunch of idiots. You're really dragging your own necks toward the abyss with your stupidity— he grabbed the man by the suit.
—Do you even know what a Spirit Creature breeding ground means? You disturbed one of high grade. You're lucky— in the end, only everyone in that nest will be dead before judgment begins against your company—
He threw him to the ground and walked toward his horse.
Throwing a dreamcatcher to the floor, he recited without turning back.
—Survive, little prey. Let's see how you do—
He took Blackie's reins and tipped his hat toward Judy, who was helping Rachel onto the horse.
He disappeared in a cloud of dust. Once far enough, he pulled out a map and pointed toward a tungsten mine marked by a raw tungsten stone at its entrance.
In an instant, he was thrown from Blackie's saddle, landing on his feet before the mine entrance glowing under the moon.
—System, was it really necessary to send me on that mission? It's not like the alliance will change the world that much— he asked internally.
"Responding to the host. It has only been a decade since that mission. Changes are noticeable in quality rather than speed. Give it time."
The Man Without a Name wanted to respond, but upon hearing a voice from the cave entrance, he drew his candy-cane spear and took cover.
—Who, who, who… Christmas everywhere… shiny ornaments, unforgiven souls… who, who, who— the voice carried the stench of rotten licorice.
Unaware, The Man Without a Name snapped a dead branch underfoot.
In an instant, he ducked.
A powerful slash struck the rock where he stood, sending one of his fingers flying.
—Your gifts… your greedy, greedy gifts— the demon stood as a silhouette, green hair visible in the darkness.
The Man Without a Name lunged, thrusting toward the creature's left side.
It twisted violently, bones crunching as if being crushed.
He leapt back, feeling crimson blood drip onto the ground.
Turning sharply, he dodged a green-haired hand with nails long, dark, and razor-sharp.
—At least it wasn't an entire arm this time— he said calmly, firing his revolver.
The bullets never reached the figure. Each muzzle flash revealed the green demon in full.
Its eyes were pitch-black and hollow as the night, its nose flattened against its skull as if cut away.
Each shot was used to strike with his spear, targeting vulnerable points.
Always the mid-chest above the stomach, the left shoulder, the right calf— its nearly four-meter height posed no obstacle.
Each blow carried all his strength. Scratches appeared across the body as spent casings vanished into blue light, illuminating the beast's feet.
A hand reached for his shoulder. He let the blow land and countered instantly.
The creature's shoulder was pierced with a sizzling sound. The scent of eggnog filled the air as The Man Without a Name was hurled away by a massive dog adorned with a red ornament.
—Max. Retreat. Greedy ones, the days of your false Christmas will soon arrive— the green demon mounted the sleigh and vanished.
"Christmas Event: Gift Return will be available in three weeks. You have driven away the Grinch. He will not appear again until the event begins."
On the ground, The Man Without a Name drank a Mitchell tonic, watching his finger regenerate instantly, his shoulder sealing shut.
—Good. Maybe I'll find time to bring that girl with me to New Amster for the town's gift event— he said, storing his spear and walking calmly into the mine.